


(I'm Beginning to See the Light)

by thegreatandpowerfultoaster



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Its sad for like 10 mins lets not get ahead of ourselves, Light Angst, Multi, POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-10-20 16:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20678210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatandpowerfultoaster/pseuds/thegreatandpowerfultoaster
Summary: Norman finds Ethan's number by chance after his resignation, and the two start to talk.Meanwhile, Lauren Winter feels like she should be mad at Grace Mars for having what she doesn't anymore, but she can't be.





	1. Norman

Norman's legs dangle less than gracefully off the back of the couch. Sitting upside down maybe isn't the best way to stop nausea from overtaking him, but his back was starting to hurt sitting normally and there are still two boxes to go through.

Good lord, how had he managed to stick that much stuff in his desk, anyways? Especially when he was barely at his desk, and usually in places like Philadelphia before he quit.

And why had it taken him almost a month after he'd quit to actually sit down and go through it?

He wasn't the sort to put things off like this, but the first week or so he hadn't really wanted to admit that he'd thrown away his entire FBI career after the Origami Killer case, and then the week after that he'd barely been able to open his eyes, having been going through what he hoped was the worst part of his triptocaine withdrawal.

It was getting done now at least, and even if going through boxes wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, he had an audio book going over the DVD player, which was making it _bearable_.

He picks up something out of the box at random. Ah, stessball. 

Where was that when he needed it? Norman gently rolls it to the accumulating 'Donate' pile, and moves to grab something else out of the box, and it's slightly less irregular feeling than the stessball was.

_Oh_, oh that's not good. He shouldn't have that. A copy of the Origami Killer case file, that had names and pictures and phone numbers and all sorts of things he definitely shouldn't still have a copy it.

He had to have shoved it into a drawer after they gave it to him back in DC, because he didn't need a physical copy with ARI around.

Maybe he can give it back? Well, there's really no other option, he sort of has to. He gives it a cursory once-over, flipping through the whole thing and stops in the page detailing the Mars family, and his heart sort of stops for a second before resuming a haphazard beat.

Ethan Mars. What a man. Norman's an only child and doesn't have any kids himself, so he can't possibly imagine being put into that same situation. How do you come out of that okay?

Sure, Shaun's okay, you're okay, but can you get past everything you had to do to get to that point? He doesn't even know, and his job is-_was, he gently reminds himself-_was figuring people out.

And even disregarding all that, Ethan's still fascinating to him and since this entire thing started Norman can't for the life of him understand why. Even laying there in the floor in the investigation room, when Norman hadn't even been able to stop what Blake had did to him, he still just had sparked something in Norman.

He didn't hate Norman, and maybe it was because he was tired and hurt, and just wanted his son back, but he couldn't help but appreciate it either way.

Maybe he should call Ethan. His number's right here, after all-

No, that's stupid. He's probably changed his number since this first report was written anyways, with the reports and the cops and God knows who else.

He could try, though. Just text him, even. And if it worked, he could check up on him and make sure they were doing alright, and if he didn't answer, an no harm done. Right?

And then he could get rid of the report, either way.

That was a good justification, he even almost had himself convinced that it would be as simple as that.

Besides, it's a distraction from these boxes that can't seem to hold his attention for more than two minutes. Just putting it off a little longer seems worth the risk.

Norman shifts so he's sitting upright and gives himself a moment to readjust to sitting normally before pulling out his phone, and carefully typing in the number.

And trying to figure out what to say which is...Harder than it should be, by any means.

**(YOU) (4:34): Hello, Ethan! This is Agent Jayden who worked with you and Shaun. I just wanted to check up on you two.**

Was that weird? Can you delete texts after you send them? He's such a recluse he doesn't even know. Norman decides the best course of action after that mistake is to close the program and never, ever think about that particular lapse of judgement again.

He sighs, reaching into the box again, and picking an item out at random. A card from his mother, he sets it on the table beside the couch and chooses again. And then he sees it.

And _then_ he closes his eyes and tries to remember how miserable it had been before he quit Tripto. And how he'd flushed it all down the toilet after he'd started seeing things.

And how much easier it was to just take it and not feel constantly nauseous and weak.

He doesn't remember putting that in the boxes, either but he'd mostly just been trying to get out. It would be better to just throw it away, but every time he gets another look at it, it doesn't get easier, and he can't even say why. 

It's just a little tube. Not even enough for a a month.

_You're a bona fide addict. _He almost starts laughing at himself. Of course, just when things had started to get a little better, at least physically. He hasn't seen anything since that second week of retirement.

His phone buzzes, and to get it he has to set the little vial of Tripto down, and he can conveniently forget it's fallen into a couch cushion or something later.

**(. . .2747)(4:41): I hope I don't sound rude but this isn't the first message I've got that claimed to be Agent Jayden.**

Oh, so it was still Ethan's number. And he guessed that made sense. The story was national news, at least for the first little while that Norman still kept up with it. 

He shifts so he's turned away from the box still sitting on the couch, runs a hand through his probably awful looking hair and uses his phone to snap a self-portrait. And then without wanting to inspect it too closely and get nit-pickey he sends it, along with a message.

**(YOU)(4:45): You should probably change phone numbers.**

**(. . .2747)(4:45): yeah, probably but I can't ever remember new numbers**

**(. . .2747)(4:46): Its really nice to hear from you though agent. I didnt really get to tell you thank you or anything. Shaun and I are good. His mother let me have joint custody again and we moved.**

He finds himself smiling. How good is that?

Ethan's still typing, though. So who knows. Norman takes the time to add the number as a contact, in the slim, silly hope that maybe conversation between them could become regular.

**(Ethan)(4:47): I dont know how to ask this, but do you have any details on what happened to madison paige? I know she was a journalist and died looking for the killer but thats all I could find out**

**(Ethan)(4:47): she was a friend, and I just want to know what happened**

**(YOU)(4:47): I don't have details, I'm sorry.**

**(YOU)(4:48): Oh, that sounds awful, let me try again: I quit, so I don't have access to any of the final case reports, and I didn't read any of them before I quit.**

**(YOU)(4:48): I probably should have led this whole conversation with that, I'm sorry.**

Madison Paige...the name sounded familiar but not a single thing about her came to mind.

**(Ethan)(4:49): its ok. I guess I didnt expect anything I just felt awful about her feeling like she had to help me and then she just...disappeared. Whyd you quit your job? You were obviously good at it and it seemed like you liked it**

He had. He _did_ like it. But between ARI, and tripto, and Shaun, and everything else...he couldn't go through any of that again.

**(YOU)(4:53) There were a lot of reasons. You were one of them, I guess. I think if we'd gotten through that and you weren't okay, or Shaun wasn't okay, it would've completely destroyed me.**

Ethan doesn't answer, so Norman stands and looks into the box on the couch and tells it, "Fine, you win, you stupid box."

He's not looking at anything else tonight, or maybe ever, we'll see how it goes. He leans over behind the couch to shut off the audio book that's playing (he's long since lost the plot anyways) and double checks the time.

Dinner time. That's one thing he has always been able to handle throughout this entire thing. Cooking is therapeutic in its own way. He leaves his phone on the couch, and doesn't miss the glint of blue rolling closer to the dip it makes in the cushion.

Norman Jayden takes a deep breath as he pulls things out of his cupboards and wonders if normal is really all it's cracked up to be.


	2. Lauren

She thinks for a moment about kicking the headstone in front of her as hard as she possibly can-like that will fix anything. Like that will bring back Johnny or make Allan pay, or make fucking Shelby pay.

Lauren doesn't exactly consider herself a reasonable person, but she's not stupid, either. It won't even make her feel better, so she rocks back in her seated position and sighs.

_Why is she even still here?_

That one's easy: Where else is she supposed to go? 

There's nothing left anymore. Not her shitty ex or her son that she'd loved more than anything in the world, or the man she'd thought was her friend until someone else had to break the things he'd done to her, a week after he'd died and she'd been led to believe it was while doing the right thing.

Lauren shoots another dirty look at the headstone of Scott Shelby, placed next to John Sheppard's by virtue of blood only.

And then she stands up, slowly and makes her way through the winding roads back to her car. She passes Johnny's grave on her route, and though she's already stopped there once today and let herself cry over something she can't fix, no matter how hard she's tried, she spares it another glance and runs her fingers over the smooth top.

Being home_ (if it can really even be called a home)_ doesn't help her feel any better. She's missed three calls already today. 

Not that she'd been taking calls since she started helping 'investigate', and if any of those assholes actually listened to her, they might have caught that. 

She tries to clean up a little, but there's really nothing to do. She's cleaned every day this week, and aside from a poster that had fallen down and a bed that needed to be made, the apartment is spotless.

Lauren screams into her pillow. 

Where else is she supposed to go? Day in, day out, it's all the same thing, mourn, come home. Mourn. She doesn't want to go back to the way things were. She can't.


	3. Ethan

Sometimes Ethan Mars is left to wonder how he got here.

_Here_ is a brand new condominium, still with boxes everywhere that he hasn't bothered to unpack, after a month after moving in. It's things he's not sure he's ready for, anyways.

Architecture books, family photos, things from Before. 

_Here_ is not trying to ignore the scars on his forearms, or thighs from broken glass, or the gunshot sounds that he can still hear sometimes, when he closes his eyes for too long, or any of the rest of it.

_Here_ is heart aching whenever Shaun's at his mothers, wondering if he'll get to come home, this weekend.

...Here is apparently talking to a (former) FBI agent, who's the reason he's even still alive.

**(Norman)(10:18): I just keep telling myself, at least it isn't raining.**

**(Norman)(10:18): Is it?**

**(Norman)(10:19): Raining there, I mean?**

He knows the answer already but Ethan glances out the window, anyways. The sky is a bright blue, nearly cloudless, and he suddenly releases a breath he didn't know he was holding.

**(YOU)(10:20): no.**

Ethan is...well, he was sort of nervous at first about talking to someone who seemed to have it all together. They've only been talking for a few days but already Norman's dropped the sort of overly formal time he used at first.

So it's not that Ethan thinks he doesn't have it all together (because he still does) but he seems more human, now. 

**(YOU)(10:20) I think im worse with storms than shaun is**

**(Norman)(10:22) That's to be expected, I think. Kids are more resilient than they really should be. Not to say it probably didn't have any long-term effects, but... **

**(YOU)(10:22): I think youre right**

**(YOU)(10:25): i'd better go get some work done**

**(Norman)(10:26): Okay. You take care of yourself, Ethan.**

He's going to say something to that, he really is. But the window catches his eye again, and he starts thinking of things to say, and before long it's turned into an entire conversation with himself in his head and no response seems appropriate for the strange-acquaintanceship? Friendship?-_Thing_ they're dealing with.

Ethan isn't doing architecture work right now. It had been... A lot of deadlines and things to go back to immediately. 

He's working on a book.

And he'd say that the hard part was done for him, but that isn't really the case.

Madison had started it, and when a niece of hers came into town for a week to get rid of all her stuff she had to come to the hotel room that Madison been staying in, so Ethan had caught her attention and tried to get some information out of her.

The niece had only said that the police hadn't told her what happened, yet, and yes, she would appreciate the help going through things, and who was he?

The explanation hadn't come easy. It was the first time he'd told anyone about it all the way through since it happened. She was good at listening. And she was a mostly impartial party, which he had to guess helped things.

And then she told him about something she'd found on her laptop, and showed him Madison's book, the start of the story of the Origami Killer and his Victims, told through a group of articles.

Ethan had asked if he could have it, and finish it.

He wasn't sure that he intended to publish it, but writing down everything he knew and remembered, and that helped it make a little more sense, at least. He opens it, but doesn't end up doing anything, except for rereading everything they'd written so far, and scratching mindlessly at the scars on his forearms. 


	4. Grace

Despite everything, it's really, really hard to still be sad when you get to watch your son skip out the front of the school building (the new one), all the way out to the car.

He's got a little smile on his face, and Grace only realizes that he's smiling at her when he gets closer and opens the door. "Hi, mom!"

At first he hadn't even wanted to talk to her, he had just wanted Ethan. Grace guesses that's payback for the months after Jason, when he hadn't wanted to go see his dad every wrek, and Grace didn't know what to tell him, since they had all used to be so close.

"Hi, Shaun! Buckle up, okay?"

He looks at her like she's just told him the sky is blue.

She doesn't know why that puts a damper on the mood so fast, but he's her baby, and he's growing up, which means he's a lot harder to get unconditional admiration for, mostly and it's a transitional period she wasn't at all ready for.

"So...What'd you do at school?"

He shrugs. "Nothing interesting."

Grace wonders briefly it this sinking feeling was what Ethan felt after he got out of the hospital. He'd mentioned that, at some point, that Shaun was distant. 

At first she hadn't believed it, because they were always so close, and Shaun was perfectly upbeat and responsive to her.

She checks her rear view mirror. "Really? Not even anything you did at break? Not even...was it art or P.E. today? I can't even keep up."

In the back seat, he gives another small shrug. "It was P.E. And we just ran, so...no."

She gives up on that for the moment. "Do you have any homework?"

He shakes his head. "It's _Friday._"

"I know, I was just wondering. Are you excited to see your dad this weekend?" 

His instant lightening up isn't even trying to be subtle, and Grace's chest sort of caves in. "Yeah! We're gonna go see a movie, and go to the park, he said."

"Exciting. Is he sure he's up to that?" 

She knows he's getting better with the blackouts, even if she's not sure exactly how or why (she hadn't been that involved in his life for almost two years now). It's not even so much worrying for them, it's....

It's a teeny, tiny part of her that's bitter that Shaun doesn't get as excited about doing things with her anymore. And the tiny part that wants to do something about it, or for something out of her power to happen so that Shaun can just be hers. 

It's awful. And she _knows_ that, and of course she isn't going to do anything, but sometimes she finds herself thinking about it. And she _feels_ awful. 

At least she can get some uninterrupted work done this weekend. She feels close to some sort of a breakthrough. 

Throughout the week, her waitress job takes a lot out of her. But if she could just figure out how to make the fashion thing pay off...

Shaun's fallen completely quiet again, and once the car is safely parked in a driveway, he zips off, and she only just manages to watch the front door opening and closing in a blur.

Grace sighs, and takes the moment to rest her head on the steering wheel.


	5. Texts

**(Grace)(4:30): I'm sorry, we're running a little late, traffic is super bad**

**(YOU)(4:31): thats okay! Just stay safe**

**(Grace)(1:12): you guys got home from the movies safe?**

**(Grace)(1:12): I'm sorry, I just worry a lot about **

**(Grace)(1:14): yknow **

**(YOU)(1:17): i know **

**(YOU)(1:18): we're fine**

**(Grace)(1:23): thanks**

**(Grace)(1:45): I'm glad we still talk ethan **

**(YOU)(1:49): me too **

**(Grace)(1:50): I mean I dont see why we can't be friends, right?**

**(YOU)(1:50): right**

**(YOU)(1:50): in fact wouldn't that be better for everyone involved?**

**(Grace)(1:51): right!**

**(Grace)(1:54): I miss that**

**(Grace)(1:55): being friends and talking to you, I mean**

**(YOU)(1:57): same **

**(YOU)(2:02): thanks Grace**

* * *

**(YOU)(7:04): So he opens the door, and I'm just in here talking to myself and waving my arms around like a crazy person**

**(Ethan)(7:04): okay that's hilarious, how did you explain that?**

**(YOU)(7:05): I didn't get the chance to, he backed right out and I barely even noticed him.**

**(YOU)(7:05): God. I'm glad I gave that thing back. It was definitely more trouble than it was worth.**

**(Ethan)(7:06): did it have bad side effects**

**(Ethan)(7:32): it just seems like it would but I don't want to pry**

**(YOU)(7:42): Yeah, it did. Another reason I'm glad I'm done with it.**

**(YOU)(10:12): So you do architecture, right?**

**(Ethan)(10:15): yeah **

**(YOU)(10:16): Do you like it?**

**(YOU)(10:16): I'm trying to think of alternate career options, but all I can't think of that I'm good at is drawing.**

**(Ethan)(10:20): its interesting but if you have a hard time with deadlines its stressful **

**(Ethan)(10:21): i guess you probably dont have a problem with deadlines huh**

**(Ethan)(10:22): you draw? I wouldnt have guessed**

**(YOU)(10:23): Haha, yep.**


	6. Norman

He wipes at his forehead with the sleeve of his light sweater and wonders when he lost all of his physical abilities. Granted, he's always been better at agility than brute force, but still.

The attic is pretty full, now, and to be honest, he's not sure how all this stuff fit into his apartment in the first place. 

See, going through the stuff from his desk had quickly spiraled into an entire spring cleaning thing, and it had been a lot less boring with someone to periodically talk to.

Ethan was fun to talk to, actually.

"That should be the last box, you sure you're okay with me keeping this stuff here for now?"

Still in the doorway, his mother smiles and shrugs. "I bought a lot of it for you in the first place, so I'd better be." She laughs. "Yeah, it's fine. I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't, sweetheart. Are you looking for a place right now?"

He doesn't know what possesses him to shrug, and nervously run a hand through his hair. "I'm...Well, I'm actually still thinking about where I want to be. I like Virginia and all, but I was kind of thinking about finding a place up in Pennsylvania." 

He surprises himself with that thought, but his mother just nods, looking much less phased than he feels. Then again, it isn't all that far away, not at all. 

But still.

"Hmm, let me see if I can figure this one out." He'd had to study, but she was always good at reading people naturally. A profiler of her own volition. "You met someone, on that case. Maybe involved with the case, and now you feel responsible for them?"

Norman can't resist the heavy with that follows, and the groaned, "_Moooooom_."

"You're just proving me right."

"It isn't like that," he says, because it isn't , but maybe he answers too quickly, because she theatrically waggles her eyebrows at him. "It isn't! It's just...pretty up there."

"Oh yeah, because the first thing you do when you get home from a place you think is pretty is call me up and complain about how dreary it was, for an hour." She turns and starts down the stairs out of the attic. "So, who is it?" 

"Really, mom. I might not even move up there, it was just an idea."

She must decide to let it go for now, because she just ignores that particular protest and turns on the sink to fill up the kettle for tea. 

Thankfully, she doesn't bring it up again, even if Norman knows he's won the battle, and not the war.

* * *

There's a word for not knowing what to draw, but he can't think of _that_, either. The TV blares on in the background, but Norman isn't at all invested in the Golden Girls rerun. 

Well, okay. He does know what everything he's trying to draw seems to turn into, but he isn't ready to admit that he's...what, infatuated? Has a crush? 

Infatuated sounds like a chronic condition, and he hasn't had a crush since about ninth grade, and both of those things sound kind of wrong and awful.

Why can't he seem to draw anything but Ethan Mars?

At least he knows Ethan will never see it. Especially (no, not especially) since he can't seem to get it quite right, since it's entirely from memory. If he still had that damned case briefing, or if Ethan had been a done more interviews after the fact (he'd avoided most of that, thankfully) he could probably get it right, but now there's no use. Unless-

_Unless..._The voice in his head echoes.

He digs his phone out of his pocket, and starts typing.

**(YOU)(5:44): Wait, you got medical care for your arms and stuff, right?**

**(YOU)(5:44): I didn't ask before and now I'm worried about it.**

**(Ethan)(5:46): yeah! it was a while before I even remembered just because everything else was so sore too everything still sort of hurts the way scars do but its supposed to not last forever**

Okay, that didn't work so, Plan B.

**(YOU)(5:51): How's that new place? Got a nice view?**

He sends a picture of a big, open window opening into a crowded street, and in the corners Norman can make out the signs of a makeshift office. Not what he'd wanted, exactly.

**(Ethan)(5:52): not really**

**(Ethan)(5:53): are you thinking of moving**

**(YOU)(5:54): Yeah. Just not sure where I want to be yet, you know? **

Which is the truth, mostly but it isn't why he'd asked. What's Plan C?


	7. Lauren

Here she is, again. The only difference between this visit to the cemetery and the last hundred is that it isn't raining today, so at least she doesn't need to sit in the mud next to her Johnny.

It's sunny outside, and the sky is nearly cloudless, and it strikes her as so _unfair_ and wrong. 

She's ready to leave again, already up and setting a slower-than-comfortable pace back to her car, when she passes a woman, holding a little boy's hand. They're both carrying armfuls of flowers. They look like white lilies from where she's standing. 

Lauren used to love flowers. Now all she can see is an orchid, held in her baby boy's tiny, pale hand. When are the smiling face of a man who helped her out of a shitty situation, and let her help, and gave her purpose for the first time since her baby was gone.

Flowers make her want to throw up.

She doesn't know why she turns towards them to watch where they're going. She doesn't know why she keeps watching, as the two walk hand in hand, place a flower in one of the graves, and keep walking, to where she was just sitting a moment ago. 

The woman lays a Lilly on Johnny's grave, and moves on, the way they had before. It at least starts to, but Lauren yells "Wait!" without thinking of the repercussions of this action.

The woman turns to face her, and it's only then that Lauren realizes she recognizes her and the kid. They'd been on the news a lot, in the past couple months. Now it was mostly reruns, but she was glad her involvement with the investigation part of it had really been minimal.

She didn't have to sit through tv interviews, or give a statement, or anying. She'd talked to an FBI agent over lunch, but he'd assured her that it was all off the record. She still wasn't sure how he'd known where to find her. At that point she didn't care. 

"Wait!" She tells again and walks towards the two. "I..." Now what? Tell her to not put a flower in his grave? Ask her why? Tell her how lucky she was to still have her son? 

She doesn't have to figure out what to say. Grace Mars does it for her, with a gracious smile and an outstretched hand. "You're Lauren Winter, right? I didn't see you, or else I would've asked first, is that okay?" 

Lauren wants to tell her yes, because somehow it is, despite soft petals and crisp stems haunting her dreams. But she can't even nod. 

Grace must let go of her son's hand, because she wraps both of her arms around Lauren, and then she's just crying. They're both crying, actually. 

It's kind of freeing feeling.

They move apart, and Grace leaves one hand on her shoulder. Her eyes are red and puffy like Lauren's probably are. "It'll be okay. I know it will," she says.

Lauren wants to be angry, and ask her how she knows, she still has someone. Instead she just cries more, and nods. She believes her. Lauren doesn't know why. But she believes her.

"Okay," is all she manages to say. "Okay." 

"I bring flowers to all of them. I don't know what else I can do for them.

"That's...A lot of the parents don't come see them," Lauren sniffs. How does she know? She comes by nearly every day, isn't that sad? She'd never tell Grace that. "It's kind of you. It's more than I could do."

"Can I call you?" She says. Lauren doesn't know why she'd want that, or why Grace would, but she nods and digs out her phone from her jacket pocket.

She doesn't want to be a project for the well-off Grace Mars. But she said yes anyways, and watches as Grace types her number into the contacts, and slips it back into her hands. 

Grace wraps her arms around her again, and Lauren tries her best not to shrink in on herself, but she can't stop. "You'll call me if you get need anything? Anything at all?" Lauren nods, but she doesn't think she will. 

She doesn't _need_ anyone, or anything, right?

Not from Grace Mars. 

Does she _want_ something from her, though?


End file.
